How can I describe it? It’s like being tired, but only in my heart. My body can feel as fresh and rested as I please, but there’s nothing in my mind, no burning passion in my soul. There’s nothing I want to do and nothing I want to strive for. That’s what I remember most about growing up. There’s a void in my heart, an empty little hole that sucks feelings into it. It waits, a small little creature growing bigger by the day until it will devour me entirely. The great beast of not caring. Or perhaps it’s the whisper of my despair. Greater yet. I am worthless. It’s true. Undeniably true. I am in
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